by Siera London
Nathan interrupted him.
“I’ll handle this.” He gave Cutler a stern look. Nathan didn’t want this information to leak before he could gather some facts.
“Sure thing, my lips are sealed, but I can’t believe that sweet girl would do something like what’s described in that article. It said her mother was inside. That Symphony had to be rushed to the hospital for smoke inhalation.”
“I need time to think this through. Just keep quiet.”
“Keep quiet about what?” Trace walked in carrying his gear. Every firefighter had the responsibility of keeping his gear in top condition. Nathan felt as if he’d been given a suit that had been cut open and blue flames burned his flesh off the bone.
“Nothing,” Nathan said.
Trace faced off with them both. “Tell me.”
Nathan looked to Cutler, unsure of his next move. Maybe the three of them could figure this out. Nathan made the decision. He handed Trace the article.
“What’s this?” Trace asked, staring at the crumpled paper in his hand.
“Read it for yourself.” Nathan waited. Waited to hear the opinion of his two best friends. Men he trusted with his life.
Trace’s breathing rate increased with each line he read. “We have to go to the chief with this. What if she’s the one starting the fires?”
“She’s not,” Nathan bellowed, snatching the article back.
He stood chest to chest with a man he considered to be his brother. Cutler placed a hand on his and Trace’s shoulder, separating them before things turned physical, then turned to face Nathan.
“Where did you get that article, Nate?” Cutler asked.
“It was mailed to me here,” he jabbed a finger at the floor, “at the station.”
“Why would someone send a letter directly to you? Sounds kinda suspect to me. I’ve said it before, something ain’t right, man.” Cutler looked worried.
“I’ll tell you why. To keep your ass from falling more boots over brains for this woman,” Trace said, sporting a fierce scowl. “She’s an arsonist, for goodness sakes.”
“We don’t know that.”
“It’s in black and white, Nathan. This woman could be setting you up. What more do you need?”
“I need to talk with Symphony.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Trace countered. “I’m going to the computer archives to follow up on this lead.”
Nathan went to follow Trace, but Cutler’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Let him go. Maybe he’ll find something to shed some light on this thing.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then, I think your girlfriend is our number one suspect.”
Nathan felt his face drain of color. He could feel his heart beating against his chest. His world slowed to a stop. He’d slept with the enemy—and loved it. Heck, he craved it. More than that was the reality that he’d fallen in love with Symphony. He had to do something to help her. Symphony couldn’t be responsible for the recent fires.
“Cover for me. I’m going to get some answers.” Nathan had his keys in hand before Cutler agreed to his request. What would he ask Symphony when he found her?
***
Symphony checked her buttons and lace ties one last time before taking the stage. The Silken Pearl was packed and she envisioned the stack of bills she’d add to the forty-five hundred dollars underneath her mattress.
Richard had offered her two shows per night. The fact that she could sing and dance was great for business. The crowds had grown denser each night that she had performed. The chef had doubled the food and beverage orders for the next month. As soon as she was done, she’d call Nathan. He’d be home in the morning, but she wanted him to know how much she missed him these past two days.
“Gentlemen, the pearl you’ve all been waiting for. Put your hands in the air and your money on the stage for… Siren-n-n.”
She felt like an NFL team when the announcer said, Let’s Get Ready to Rumble.
A multi-hued blue strobe light danced across the crowd in rapid sequence. It gave the appearance of waves washing over the audience, drenching them in shades of blue. The room was cast in darkness. Symphony could feel the energy pulsating through the hushed crowd. The men waited to see what she had planned for them tonight.
A sensual blue flutter of light focused on the stage. Symphony inhaled a deep breath. That lavender scent Richard liked pumped through her lungs. With every ounce of power in her body, she pushed a powerful cord of, “Giving Him Something He Can Feel” by Aretha Franklin through the air. The sultry sound reached into the rafters and the echo sent currents of sultry rhythm through her body. The music would come in next, but for now, it was her and the song. She pictured gray eyes, tangled limbs, and Nathan’s powerful hands touching her body. Her voice made love to the lyrics, mimicking the emotion shared between her and Nathan. The crowd went wild, chants and shouts of praise competing with her a cappella.
She sat upon a clam shell Richard brought in special for tonight’s performance. Rachel’s touch was a cream silk-covered pillow seat for the bottom half of the shell. Her costume was a shimmering cream bodice with a lace skirt that was open in the front, baring her legs to the crowd.
Symphony opened her eyes. A sea of green bills covered the stage, hiding the jet black flooring. Hands shot forward in the darkness, they represented every color and size, and all were filled with money waiting to be taken.
Dropping to her knees, Symphony crawled on all fours from her billowy throne towards her fans. She kept her shoulders back, pushing her breast forward, enticing the crowd into a frenzy.
Symphony slid her legs forward and spread them wide in a graceful split. A new confidence coursed through her veins, emboldened like never before. She swore she heard a growl over the cheers of the crowd. Dollars rained down over her hair, her face, her body—and she smiled. She would save her home and she would keep Nathan. For the first time in her life, she could have everything she ever wanted.
Out of the corner of her eye, a shadowed figure extended a roll of bills. He gestured with his wrist for her to come closer.
Slowly, Symphony came to her feet, shedding the lace wrap covering her plump derriere.
As she gyrated across the stage, she undid the first two hooks of her bodice, exposing the swell of her breasts to her generous benefactor.
His face remained hidden, so she leaned in close, giving him a better view.
Reaching for the roll of bills with a ready smile, she nearly tumbled off the stage when arctic steel gray eyes bore into hers. Startled, she tried to jump back, but Nathan snaked a hand around her wrist, holding her in place. His touch was like fire, singeing her skin.
Someone called out from the crowd. “Hey, buddy. You’re not allowed to touch her.”
“Show’s over, Siren,” Nathan growled.
Symphony tried to wrestle her arm away, but his grip was unrelenting.
“You have exactly ten seconds to get your naked ass off this stage.”
How had Nathan found her? What would he do, now that he knew one of her secrets?
***
Nathan saw red. How had he fallen for another lying, manipulative, probably cheating woman? The more he replayed the image of Blue on that stage he felt his blood heat to the point of self-combustion. His Blue was a stripper.
He’d released Symphony when she started to pull in earnest against his hold. Fury burned inside him like an inferno as she scrambled off the stage, her breast and ass damn near bare for every bubba in town to Instagram.
Cutting through the Silken Pearl’s audience, he stormed backstage.
Richard, a longtime friend, stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
“Nathan, we don’t allow patrons in the dressing room.”
“I’m not a patron,” Nathan roared. He pointed at the closed door marked dressing room. “That’s my woman you have shaking her ass for a room full of horny bastards.”
Richard’s eyes
narrowed on him. “Considering you’ve occupied a seat in my establishment a time or two, I expect you to follow the rules.”
Nathan tightened his fists at his side. “Get out of my way or I’ll rain down a firestorm of building code violations on your head.”
“Are you threatening me, Nathan?”
“I am. Now move.”
Richard stepped aside, but not before Nathan saw the pity in his eyes. “Siren is a good girl.”
“Don’t call her by that freaking stripper name.”
“She’s not a stripper. All she did was sing a few songs. I’d tread carefully if I were you.”
“You’re not me,” Nathan countered.
“You’re right, I’m not the one wearing blinders.”
“Stay out of this, Richard.”
“It’s your funeral.”
“Whatever,” Nathan pushed through the door, eyes scanning the room for Symphony.
Rachel sat at a dressing table, but quickly came to her feet, arms outstretched. Her eyes pleaded with him to stop. He ignored her, heading for the only other door in the small space. “Blue?”
“She’s in the bathroom and she’s really upset.”
Nathan rounded on the woman he once respected. “She’s upset… she’s…” Nathan could barely get oxygen into his lungs. The room seemed to expand and shrink in time with his blood pressure.
“You don’t have the full story of what’s going on with Symphony.”
“And you do? Is that why you and Claudia turned my woman into a whore?”
Nathan heard a gasp, and then a wounded sob. He swung back to the door that had been closed. Blue stood in the open doorway of the bathroom. The hand covering her mouth did little to hold her sobs.
His heart cracked open at the devastation etched in every line of her face. She looked utterly defeated.
“Get your things, Blue.”
Her lighter was in her hand, and he could see a glimpse of the hand-rolled tucked into her palm. How could she smoke when their relationship was going down in flames?
“Please, go away,” she said. “I can’t see you right now.”
He took a step toward Symphony, but Rachel grabbed his arm. He looked from her eyes to her hand, and then back up at her again. She shook her head from left to right.
“No,” Rachel mouthed. “Please, don’t do this,” she whispered.
“Blue.” He turned his attention back to the woman who’d betrayed him. The woman that had him lengthening in his jeans as she pranced across a stage for money. “I swear if you stay here or ever return to this club, I will burn the whole damn block to the ground.”
Symphony’s eyes stretched wide in horror.
“What… you think you’re the only one that likes to play with fire?” The instant the words left his mouth he knew he’d gone too far.
“Nathan, that’s enough,” Rachel screeched, like a momma bear, readying to do battle for her young.
When he looked at Blue. Tears poured down her face like white water rapids. Her body trembled like she was on the verge of collapse.
“It’s fine,” she said between sobs. “I’m used to it.”
She gathered her backpack without looking at him. “Let’s get out of here, Rachel.”
“You’re going with me,” Nathan bellowed.
“Go to hell, Nathan Zachary,” Symphony railed. “This whore, that you know nothing about, is going home, alone.”
What did she have to be angry about? He was the one who’d been lied to, betrayed.
Rachel walked over to Blue and grabbed her hand. “Come on, sweetie. I’ll get you home.”
As they moved past him, he heard, “Muscle-headed jerk,” from Rachel.
Symphony didn’t make eye contact, so he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
Their eyes met, but Nathan got the distinct feeling that Blue didn’t see him. Like a wall had formed, where he could see her, but somehow he was invisible.
He ignored the fact that she didn’t respond. That the amber eyes he loved, had darkened to charcoal, dead and lifeless in her face.
His phone rang. Recognizing Cutler’s number, he picked up the call.
“Don’t have time to talk, Cut.”
“Get back to the station. Stuff just got real serious with your girl.”
“Tell me—”
Cutler had hung up. What the hell could be worse than the crap he’d seen on that stage with his own eyes?
Chapter Ten
Nathan dubbed Thursday the worse day of the week. He was done trusting women with his heart. The sun still made its appearance, and taunting his dark soul with unwanted light. The report waiting of him at the fire station proved that Symphony was the arsonist responsible for the Key West fires and a lot more. A suspicious fire had been documented at her campgrounds of record in San Diego, in Dallas, and two other locations en route to Key West.
He rapped on the aluminum door of her motorhome, the contact sent vibrations through his rigid frame.
“Symphony Porter,” he called loud enough to rouse the neighborhood. The door opened.
Relief and regret shone in Symphony’s eyes. Nathan’s heart hammered in his chest.
She wore a snug-fitting pair of blue jeans with another lightweight boating shirt. Dust covered her black combat boots that had seen their best days two hundred miles ago. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, straight in some places, curled in others. She looked like she’d been up all night. Her natural beauty lit his fire hotter than a blue flame. Had she waited up for him?
In a flash, she had her arms around his neck. He shivered when she placed a kiss on his cheek.
“You came back,” she breathed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything.”
Momentarily dazed, he forgot why he’d come to this place.
Nathan caught sight of her smile, and his temper flared. She thought him a fool. He ripped her arms from his neck, setting her away from him.
“Nathan,” she studied him with a puzzled look on her face, “we need to talk. Come inside.”
He steeled himself for what would come next. “It’s too late for that.”
“Please, let me explain.”
Forcing himself to say the words, he pulled out the warrant. “Symphony Porter, I have a warrant for your arrest.”
“No,” she gasped. A hand cupped over her mouth in shock.
Symphony had given him a new lease on life, only to drag him lower than he’d ever been. He had been better off alone.
“You think I burned down the law office and my cigar shop?” His brows slammed together at the mention of the businesses that had been torched.
“I didn’t disclose the locations. Anything… and I mean anything you say… can be used against you,” he said in a deadly tone.
“The newspapers did and so did everyone else in town.” She stared at him. “You’re making a mistake,” she pleaded, “Nathan, listen… please. I kept my past from you, but I’ve never burned down anything in my life.”
“Liar,” he spat the words at her. “I read your juvenile record. You confessed to setting your own home on fire, with you and your mother inside.”
He expected histrionics; instead, she extended her wrists to him.
“I’m wasting my breath, aren’t I?”
“You are where I’m concerned,” Nathan admitted.
Blue stared straight ahead, the look in her eyes that of profound sorrow, like the kind one saw on people’s faces as they stood along a gravesite.
She was the arsonist, yet he felt despair settle in his chest like a lump of coal, crushing him from the inside. Nathan thought of his father. Was doing the right thing supposed to cut out a piece of your soul? Justice felt similar to devastation.
“You’ve already convicted me.”
Refusing to be swayed, he hit her with more of her lies. “How did you get that burn on your forearm?”
“At the law office,”
she said without hesitation.
He regarded her with smug satisfaction.
“Someone tried to kill me in that fire.”
Her voice quavered. Nathan fought his need to rescue her, thought of the lives she’d affected, the people she’d hurt. “Save your lies for the next sucker,” he snapped.
“Nathan, I have a letter detailing my appointment for that night.”
He wouldn’t allow her to distract him with her diversionary tactics. She was the mistress of smoke and mirrors.
As if reading his mind, “You can’t believe me… even after everything…” She trailed off. Relief coursed through him; he didn’t know how much more he could stand.
“Arrest me, investigator.” She lifted her wrists once again.
No tears, no trembling. It was like she expected him not to believe her.
“You should confess and make it easy on yourself.” Nathan grabbed her wrist and cuffed one, then the other. The skin around his own wrists sizzled like someone had chained him with hot metal.
“Confession never saved my soul.”
He yanked her out of the RV, pulling her towards him in a brutal grip. Symphony’s movements were flaccid, bordering on listless. He reasoned that she was no match against his strength or his anger, that’s why she remained calm.
Onlookers stood close to their campers, most with one arm over their eyes, a makeshift visor against the ever-present sunshine. Funny, Nathan felt cold seep deep into his body, his bones were brittle, barely able to support his weight. He scanned the crowd. Most maintained their distance as if they got too close to Symphony the same fate would befall them, but then someone stepped forward. It was Adam.
“What the hell are you doing to her?”
For a second time, emotion flared to life in Symphony’s face.
“Adam, don’t try to defend me.”
Her lips trembled now, like she could fall apart at any moment.
“I most certainly am. Liking fire doesn’t equate to setting stuff on fire.”
Symphony looked at the old man with something akin to love in her eyes. “You know?”
“Yep, even watched you for a few weeks,” he grimaced, the look of his face part remembrance, part shame.